The Things That Never Change
by ThisCatalyst'sPen
Summary: Things have become hell since Leo left for 'special training.' Master Splinter shuts himself in his room all day. Don's busy working on his machines all day, trying to take his mind off his depression. Mikey's worse; he's selling illegal drugs on the streets now, trying to earn money for his family. And Raph...Raph can't stop talking to the voices in his head. AU, Dark Fic.
1. Chapter 1- Casey Jones

-**The Things That Never Change**-

Things have become a lot worse since Leo left for 'special training.' Master Splinter shuts himself away in his room all night. April tries to help as much as she can, but it's a hard thing to do when you're pregnant. Don's busy working on his machines all day, trying to take his mind off his depression. Mikey's worse; he's selling illegal drugs on the streets now, trying to earn money for his family. And Raph...Raph can't stop talking to the voices in his head...

And me, well, I'm trying to hold everyone together, to keep re-kindling the small spark of hope that has long since died.

* * *

It had become almost normal now, the way the turtles' now lived. It was like a bleak acceptance had just washed over them, and they had given up on everything. No one seemed to care that Donnie had depression, and was suffering from anxiety. No one seemed to give a damn that Mikey now had tattoos all up his arms, and slipped away in the dead of night to sell illegal drugs to gangs that he would usually be trying to stop. No one seemed to mind that Raphael was suffering from insomnia, or that he talked to the voices inside his head. And no one seemed to give a damn that Leo still wasn't back from Central America, now two years after his expected return.

Things were falling into rot and ruin. Master Splinter stayed in his room all day, staring down at his untouched tea and candlesticks. April was trying her hardest to help everyone, but one can only do so much, especially with a baby on the way. I would often come home late to find April's apartment dark and quiet, April already in bed, exhausted.

I loved April with all my heart. I mean, we're having a baby together. But being under so much stress, and frustration, and anger, and sadness, I couldn't help but sometimes think that I didn't _want _to come home. I didn't want to come home after hours of working, and trying to help my friends, to a darkened house. Sometimes I didn't even want to be in this _city. _I was getting to the point where I was tired and about ready to give up. Sometimes I would catch myself staring longingly at the skyline, wishing that I could just pack up my things and run away and leave everything behind, like Leo did. Other times I would tip back another glass of scotch, wait for the numbness to sink in, and pass out on the couch.

There was no more patrolling the streets at night, no more fighting bad guys, or listening to the guys fight, or having movie nights with copious amounts of pizza. There was no more laughing, or smiles, or the warmth of a family. It was like one night everyone just died, and their ghosts stayed behind.

And that night happened just over a year ago; two years after Leo had left.

_It was the day that Leo was expected back home. He hadn't returned home last year, like he said he would, so there was this kind of false hope that he would be back this year. We were all down in the lair, candles burning warmly in each room, the inviting smell of freshly made pizza accentuating the air. Mikey and April had spent all day in the kitchen cooking, preparing a grand feast for tonight. I had been helping Raph and Don clean the lair from top to bottom, getting everything prepared for Leo's return. Master Splinter had spent the day in his room, proudly polishing the bronze medallion he was waiting to give his eldest son. _

_We sat, eager and nervous in the living room, waiting for Leo to walk through the door. An hour passed and the couch started to feel hard, and restricting. When another hour passed, we started to get jittery and impatient. When another thirty minutes had passed, and the wax from the dying candles had melted to the floor and the prepared food was long since cold, things started to go downhill. April tried to keep everyone reassured. _

"_Maybe his flight is just late. Bad weather this time of year."_

_When another hour had come and gone, Raphael got slowly to his feet, his expression completely blank, except for the burning anger and anguished hurt that flickered in his eyes. Without saying a word, he went out the door, going topside for some air._

_Don was the next to move. Staring down numbly at his hands, he got to his feet and slowly shuffled to his work-room, closing the door behind him. _

_We waited for another twenty minutes, and by that time, any hope that was left had vanished from Mikey' face. He wore the expression of a puppy that had just been kicked. Putting his head in his hands, he wept softly._

_April went over to try and comfort him, and Master Splinter rose to his feet, gently placing the bronze medallion on the coffee table before retreating to his room._

_I remained where I was on the edge of the sofa, staring at the floor. A wave of emotions coursed through me; first, an overwhelming anger that Leo hadn't shown up, then disgust at what he had put his brothers through, and finally a deep sense of grief, because I knew at that moment, that none of the turtles would be the same again._

* * *

I stared down at the empty glass in my hand, contemplating whether or not it would make me feel better if I threw it against the wall. Nah, would only make a mess, a mess I would have to clean up. And I was done with messes. I slowly got to my feet, wobbling and unsteady. How much had I had to drink? I couldn't remember.

I could hear April crying softly from our room. I wanted to go in and comfort her, to wrap my arms around her and pull her close. To push her hair gently behind her ear, and to tell her that I loved her and that everything was going to be alright. But I couldn't. I didn't know how to comfort people anymore, and I knew the words would sound hollow, as hollow as my stomach felt these days.

It was on days like today that I realized, no matter how hard you tried, things never changed.

* * *

Mikey got another tattoo today. It was a sentence written in Japanese, which wrapped around his right arm. Donnie told me it says 'broken promises.'

I tried to make light of the situation, carefully selecting a smile from my inventory of facial expressions, and giving him a hearty slap on his shell.

"Nice ink man, where'd you get it?"

"None of your business," Mikey muttered, shrugging my arm off and heading towards his darkened room.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. It was tangled and hung annoyingly over my eyes. It needed a cut months ago.

"Why does he keep doing this, Donnie?" I asked in frustration, turning to the sombre turtle.

"Why does anyone do anything?" Donnie murmured after a slight pause, getting to his feet and walking to his office, like a robot stuck on autopilot.

That's how I felt at that moment. Like my friends had been turned from giant ninja fighting turtles to emotionless, automated robots.

* * *

I wonder what Leo would do, if he knew how bad his brothers had become. I had written him several letters, but I don't know if he even received them. And what if he did? What if he just read them and discarded them, like they were nothing? What if he just didn't care?

There were times when I wanted to jump on a plane and fly to Central America myself, find Leo, and drag his arse back home. But I couldn't. The turtles needed me here, and I couldn't just abandon April, not when she's seven months pregnant with my child.

And there were times when, just like the turtles, I was ready to give up. But I couldn't.

Because I was the only thing keeping them alive.


	2. Chapter 2- Raphael

_**-Raphael-**_

Raphael had come up with names for the little voices inside his head; seeing as there were so many, it was hard to often tell which was which, hence the name creating. There was Ather, who was the voice of jumbled thoughts. There was Nathanial, who was the voice of bad thoughts, Rion, the voice of self doubt, Jasper, the voice of insane thoughts, Tariq, the voice of deception, Lester, the voice telling him to hurt himself, and Megan, the voice who told him to hurt others.

And they all lived with him, inside his head, a constant presence, twenty four hours a day, every day. The voices first came about a month after Leo didn't come back. He was in the dojo, furiously beating the stuffing out of his boxing bag. It was late at night, everyone having already retreated to their respective beds. A few flickering candles lit the room, separating the shadows to the corners of the dojo.

It was a single voice at first, barely a whisper; the voice that would later be called Rion. The voice was like a snake, slithering in the shadows and slowly coiling up his body and into his head, where it whispered, and hissed.

_It's your fault he's gone, you know._

Raphael whirled around, thinking that one of his brothers had woken and was accusing him of such a horrid thing, but when he turned around, no one was there. Shaking his head and assuming it was because of lack of sleep that he was hearing things, he resumed punching his bag with clenched fists and ground teeth.

_You're the reason why your brother left; he couldn't stand to be around you anymore._

This time the voice made Raphael shudder; it sounded like someone was whispering from the inside of his ear, a cold, malicious voice.

_It's because of you that Leo left; he doesn't love you anymore, couldn't stand being around you._

"Stop it!" Raphael growled, "Leave me alone!" He shook his head violently to try and dispel the voice. He ran out of the dojo and up to his room, slamming the door shut. The voice followed him and continued to talk to him until the early hours of the morning.

At first, to get rid of the voices, Raphael started to exercise more profusely. At first his brothers were worried, but after awhile, Raphael guessed that they let him be, thinking that it was his way of dealing with Leo's absence. He didn't even think about Leo anymore.

All the extra training; the increased weightlifting, the midnight runs, the push-ups and sit-ups and endless boxing, once would probably had made Raphael a lot bigger than his brothers. But after first hearing the voices, his appetite had begun to lessen, and it wasn't long before he started skipping meals. This, and exercising into the early hours of the morning, was not a good combo.

Don tried to help him, but after receiving a prompt punch to the face, backed off.

Soon, the exercise wasn't enough to get rid of the voices, and Raphael would retreat to the darkness of his room and curl up in the corner, whispering over and over that what he was hearing wasn't real.

* * *

The first time his reality was warped happened about two months after Leo didn't come home. He was in the bathroom, standing in front of the fogged up mirror, drying himself off. He sighed and leaned heavily on the basin, his last exercise session taking away all his energy. He could see it in the mirror now, how the voices and extra training had affected his body. His eyes were tired, and dark bags made it look like he had been punched in both eyes repeatedly. He looked older, worn out. The muscles he had once prided himself in having stood out sluggishly against his skinnier frame, a result of constantly skipping meals.

And then, the voices in his head began to whisper to him again.

"_Look at you, so pathetic..."_

"_You're the reason why your brother never came back..."_

"_You're worthless and pathetic..."_

"_Just a freak..."_

"Stop it!" Raphael screamed, clutching his head tightly in his hands, like he was trying to physically block out the sounds of the voices. 'Go away!"

"_Poor Raphie is all alone..."_

"_So worthless...wouldn't be surprised if Mikey and Don left him too..."_

"Leave me alone!"

And then his reflection changed. The reflection that stared back at him wasn't him, though it looked exactly like him. His reflection smirked at him and gave him a look that chilled Raphael right to the bone. Still smirking, the reflection lifted up his right arm, looking at the flesh with wonder. Then, he began to scratch, like he was trying to peel the skin off. Rivulets of blood rain down his arm as he dug at his flesh, his face twisted in sadistic glee.

"No, stop!" Raphael cried in horror, stumbling back from the mirror.

But the voices kept taunting him until Don found him an hour later, curled up on the floor with a bloodied razer in his hands.

* * *

After that Don put him on medication immediately; antidepressants and antipsychotics and a bunch that Raphael couldn't even pronounce. The pills helped a little, numbing him and leaving him feeling languid and constantly tired. He stayed in his room and didn't exercise anymore. He took his pills like a good boy, and didn't protest when Don took his Sai away. He stayed curled up in his hammock, rocking back and forth in the dark, talking back to the voices inside his head.

It was easier than ignoring them.

They didn't like to be ignored...


	3. Chapter 3- Donatello

_**~Donatello~**_

Donatello sighed, pushing away from his computer and rubbing his sore temples. He couldn't remember his long he had been hidden away behind his computer. It was all he ever did now. He didn't like to be around his brothers, being around other people made him anxious. That was why he hid in his room all day, scanning through random things on his computer until the coffee ran out. His head pounded from being in front of a screen all day, and his eyes were dry and sore. His fingers and elbows were starting to cramp from excessive typing, and Donatello briefly considered the idea that he had tendinitis in his hands.

Picking up his ever present coffee mug, Donatello brought it to his lips, only to find that it was long since empty. With a sigh he set the empty mug aside and absently swiveled around on his wheelie-chair.

He was bored, very bored. He had looked up every possible thing there was to look up on the computer. He had read every book he owned at least three times now, and had even tried to write his own story. With his passion for inventing gone, and new-found anxieties for being around people, Donatello had a lot of free time on his hands, time he didn't know what to do with. Just this morning he had taught himself French because there was nothing else to do.

His alarm went off, signaling to Don that it was time to take his medicine. Slowly rising from his chair, Donatello creped over to his door. Trying to calm his shaking breath, he slowly, ever so slowly, slid the door open just far enough to stick his head out. Surveying the area, he was glad to see that no one was around. Feeling a little more confident, Don quickly emerged the rest of the way out of his room. As quietly as he could, so no one could hear him, he crept over to the kitchen. He took one more look around before opening the cupboard that housed his pills. With shaking hands he quickly got a glass of water and swallowed the pills with a gulp. He was contemplating whether or not to fix himself something to eat when Raphael came around the corner.

Don instantly stiffened, a strangled gasp caught in his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly and wringing his hands together, he counted slowly back from one hundred by threes, until his heart rate had become a little more stable.

"Hey-hey-hi Raph," Don said, his voice and hands beginning to shake.

Raphael looked up at Donnie, his golden eyes wide with surprise, like he hadn't even realized that Don was there. "Oh...hey," he said in a voice that was much softer than his usual, gruff, somewhat gravelly voice.

Don realized that Raphael was muttering quietly to himself, and with a sinking heart, realized that his brother was talking to the voices in his head again.

"Have you had your medicine today?" Don asked as nicely as he could, whilst mentally wishing he could just run away and hide himself in his room again.

"Oh...yeah-yeah," Raphael said with an affirmative shake of his head. "Ather reminded me to take them this morning."

"Right..." Don said slowly, knowing perfectly well that Ather was the name of one of the voices inside Raphael's head. He didn't know if he should be worried that a voice inside Raphael's head was reminding him to take his anti-psychotic medication, or if he should be relieved that Raphael had taken them anyway.

"Well...I'm going back to my room," Don said awkwardly, feeling a thin sheen of sweat coat his body. His mouth was dry and his heart was beating erratically in his ears. He needed to be alone, alone was good; alone was comfort.

Slamming the door behind him, Donatello let out the pent up breath he had been holding. He was falling apart and he knew it. He couldn't keep trying to fix his already broken family, it wasn't good for him. He couldn't stand to see his little brother come home covered in tattoos and smelling of cigarette smoke. He couldn't watch his frail old father slowly die in front of him, burdened sadness and disappointment filling his eyes. And he couldn't watch his older brother who used to be so strong, turn slowly insane and talk to voices inside his head. He couldn't keep cheeking the bathroom every night to make sure there wasn't anything dangerous Raphael could use to self-harm himself. He simply couldn't do it anymore.

So Don did what he did best know; he turned a blind eye and went back to typing absently away on his computer, the dull _click click _of the keys the only sound in the otherwise silent lair.

* * *

**A/n: Apologies for the short chapter; some of them an intermission chapters, so to speak, and may be short or long, depending on my muse. I hope this is still proving to be an interesting read. I'm sure you all can't wait until the next chapter, where we get a close, inside look at the youngest turtle; Mikey.**

**Until the next time,**

**~Cat**


End file.
